


Little Dark Age

by regrowing_a_heart



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dead Wilbur Soot, Gen, Ghost!Wilbur, Ghostbur, Ghosts, Memory Loss, POV Third Person, Post-L'Manberg Pogtopia War, Rated teen for swearing, Sad Wilbur Soot, Surreal, i heard 'ghost wilbur has memory loss' and my brain just sprinted with it, l'manberg, most of the characters aside from wilbur and schlatt are only mentioned, no beta we die like wilbur soot, references to wilbur's 'minecraft but the lava rises every minute', sleepy bois inc is alluded to but not directly present, this is probably not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regrowing_a_heart/pseuds/regrowing_a_heart
Summary: 'It's like radio static.'orAfter his death, the ghost of Wilbur Soot tries to make sense of his memories. The ghost of Jschlatt is very unhelpful.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 140





	Little Dark Age

**Author's Note:**

> *blows the dust off of this account* *violent coughing*  
> uh, hi! it's been a while, hasn't it?  
> four years without uploading and it's a minecraft server that brings me back, of all things. life is funny like that.  
> anyway, the reason i haven't uploaded in so long is because i've actually been busy working on my creative writing degree! (which is actually what i should be doing right now but.....shhhh)  
> if you have no idea who i am, feel free to ignore this message and continue with the fic!
> 
> haha ghost!wilbur go brrrrrr

He knows he shouldn’t be here.

He’s dead, that much is obvious; by all rights he should have simply ceased to be. Yet he is still here (wherever here is), roaming lands that are both familiar and strange, seeing people that make something in his chest ache for reasons he cannot explain.

It’s like radio static. He’s in the space between two radio channels, able to hear the intermixing conversations but unable to make them make sense. Almost, but not quite present.

His memories are much the same. He remembers names, details, faces - the word ‘L’Manberg’ keeps appearing - but he cannot parse what they mean to him. 

He does not remember dying.

-

They say his name is Wilbur. It seems to fit, he supposes - it’s not unfamiliar, but it doesn’t trigger any great wave of remembering either. 

They say he was a president - that L’Manberg was the nation he founded, “a special place, where men could go and emancipate -“ and sure enough, the words of a song, the chords on an old guitar come to him as easy as breathing must once have come.

They say he has a family. A father, brothers, a son. Friends, allies. Their faces are familiar, but he feels nothing when he sees them. (That’s what he tells himself, that the pain is just a side effect of death - phantom pains, he thinks, and if he could feel he’d laugh -)

They will not tell him how he died.

-

As time goes on, things come back to him. He remembers the Camarvan, he remembers the Declaration of Independence; then, like damaged film, his mind cuts to the election, to him winning, then cuts again to a ravine, and then:

“Tommy, are we the bad guys?”

After that, nothing.

-

Tubbo is the president of L’Manberg now. He seems - not quite happy, but not unhappy- when he tells Wilbur this. He talks about rebuilding, talks about making it better.

Wilbur remembers a strange smelling caravan, walls that seemed to reach to the sky, a bakery, and a podium.

He wonders where they are.

-

Quackity tries to tell him, once.

Once.

-

Wilbur disappears for a while after that.

-

He comes back into awareness above the ruins of what was once L’Manberg. It is dark, and he cannot feel the presence of anyone living nearby.

In front of him is a man with ram’s horns curled into his cheekbones and an unreadable expression. Like Wilbur, the man is grey, almost translucent.

“Schlatt.” Wilbur says.

“Wilbur.” Schlatt turns to face the hole, and the foundations of New L’Manberg. It’s unclear how long it is before he speaks again. “Was it worth it?”

“Was - was what worth it?” 

Schlatt huffs. “Fucking everything, Wilbur. The election, the festival -“

“Festival?”

Schatt turns back to scrutinise Wilbur’s face. Wilbur isn’t sure what he’s hoping to see. “You really don’t remember.” It is not a question.

“You do?”

“Fucking - of course I do, Wilbur!” Schlatt snarls, and Wilbur jerks back like he’s been struck, “We don’t all have the luxury of denial!”

“It isn’t denial. It’s - it’s gaps, I just can’t get to it -“ he tries to explain, tries to make him understand.

“You’re a coward, Wilbur Soot.” Schlatt sighs, running his hand down his face. “You think that if you hide away the person you became, they’ll forgive you? You think you can just pretend you were always right? You’ll never change, Wilbur.”

“Schlatt , that wasn’t, that wasn’t me, Schlatt -“

“It wasn’t you I was talking to.” His voice is ice. With one hand, he reaches out to flick Wilbur on the forehead, and a jolt goes through him. Schlatt leans forward, and whispers in his ear: “I know you’re in there, Wilbur. What’s your plan here, huh? You honestly think it’s as simple as forgetting? It all comes back, eventually.”

If Wilbur could breathe, he’s sure a breath would have caught in his chest just then.

Schlatt leans back again, a half-smile playing on his lips. “I know who I am. I know what I want. I am motivated by greed.” It sounds as though he’s quoting something.

A flash of something bright and hot in his mind - lava? Wilbur clutches his head, looking down at the pit. Why does it **hurt** , it shouldn’t hurt - 

Schlatt chuckles, humourless. “What drives you, Wilbur Soot? Why are you still here?”

When Wilbur looks up, the horned man has vanished, leaving only the scent of burning whiskey.

_Why are you still here?_

He doesn’t know.

**Author's Note:**

> a few notes:  
> \- i wrote this before the reveal of wilbur's 'things i remember' list, which is why he doesn't remember phil killing him (although it seems he doesn't remember writing the list anyway so *shrug emoji*)  
> \- schlatt's dialogue references his and wilbur's 'minecraft, but lava rises every minute' video, because i like to imagine that their past friendship is canon to the lore, but schlatt forgot about it after joining the server  
> \- my headcanon is that, while ghost!wilbur has memory loss, ghost!schlatt remembers everything that happened in the story in perfect clarity and feels some regret at his actions and anger at wilbur not having to suffer the emotional consequences of what he did when he was alive  
> \- also, though i couldn't fit it in, i also like to imagine that slimecicle's 'minecraft but every five minutes there's a natural disaster' video is canon, because fallen god/angel/demon!schlatt is *chef's kiss*  
> \- the title comes from the song Little Dark Age by MGMT, which i was listening to on loop when i wrote this 
> 
> thank you for reading! if you'd like, feel free to comment with constructive criticism or just nerd out with me about the dream smp story because it's occupying my mind 90% of the time these days. gotta love that autistic/adhd hyperfixation am i right-


End file.
